


Innocence

by aniay



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Plug and Play, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:19:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aniay/pseuds/aniay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long time ago, Ratchet had been more than just a medic. He looked<br/>at Optimus and his circuits sang with the memory of the young mech that had<br/>been presented to him times ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> If you need to be spoiled go to the end notes If not enjoy Virgin!Optimus that is purposefully OOC.

A long time ago, Ratchet had been more than just a medic. Now he liked to remember those times. He looked at Optimus and his circuits sang with the memory of the young mech that had been presented to him soon after ascending to Prime.

He remembered the fateful day when Optimus was sent to him, picture of innocence, almost nothing of today's mech in the youngling back then.

On rare moments when the medic had time to actually dig inside his archives he liked to replay this particular memory.

Optimus entered his chambers shyly, hands twiddling with some cable nervously. He had surely been informed about the purpose of the visit.

While other younglings could wait and find their own perfect time for imprinting, it was beneficial to Optimus' position to be broken as soon as his systems settled into adulthood.

Ratchet had not had the pleasure of seeing the young Prime for any lengthy period before - all medical procedures were conducted quickly and to the point. Not that mech that was now standing before him ever needed anything more than simple checkup.

Now he could finally appreciate the nice frame they gave him. Attractive face-plates were chiseled to the latest trend, but with enough classical feel to it that they should stay attractive even if trends changed.

Optimus looked terrified, his field clamped over him like a second armor.

Ratchet approached the twitchy mech and extended his own field gently coloring it with caring, and soothing vibrations as he let it flow over Optimus.

He needed the mech relaxed and trusting for the process to be as pleasurable and least painful as possible.

The young mech looked at him and slowly relaxed, the field caress not enough to be consciously felt, but enough to help.

"You don't need to be nervous,'" Ratchet spoke calmly and letting his field waver stroked Optimus' arm; "Let us get to know each other first." He made his field resonate with warmth and welcoming.

As they sat down on the berth, talking quietly, Optimus gradualy opened up. Admitting how hard it was to be expected so much while still so young – the pressure of being Prime almost overbearing.

As he talked, Optimus' field expanded, brushing questioningly over Ratchet in curiosity - something unconscious yet a perfect show of the need to trust someone.

The medic quivered in anticipation.

With every passing word Ratchet consciously manipulated his field, letting it mingle with Optimus' gently. He embraced Prime with it, and even this gentlest of caresses had the young mech heating up; Optimus starting to shift in his place, fans activating as his body reacted to the pleasure.

"Why... why am I heating up?" Optimus looked with wide scared eyes at Ratchet, wriggling in place and flaring his armor, desire seeping into his circuits slowly.

"I'm waking your body up,"Ratchet explained and let his field brush purposefully against Optimus, the mech purring and his field immediately closing tight in embarrassment.

"It's no place to be shy of yourself, Optimus." Ratchet cupped Prime's cheek, young mech leaning into caress. "We are here so that you can become who you need to be, but first you have to learn how to be yourself." Ratchet's engine growled at the utter trust that shone in Optimus' optics then.

Optimus nodded and placed his own hand over the medic's, nuzzling into the medic's warm and friendly-caring field.

"Don't be afraid to tell or ask me anything, don't hesitate to touch me. I will touch you." Ratchet slid his thumb over Optimus' mouth, the lips parting under teasing caress.

"You are beautiful" Ratchet whispered and leaned forward placing a tender kiss on Optimus' lips. The young Prime closed his optics and exhaled, warm air tickling Ratchet's cheeks.

Ratchet rumbled quietly in appreciation and let his glossa poke through at Optimus' lips, the pliant plating parting and letting him in, causing the young mech to keen softly.

Ratchet pulled him closer and let his field expand and surround his young charge, Optimus clinging to him helplessly. He pushed Optimus to the berth, the mech going rigid at the unexpected change of position.

"Shhhh, don't be afraid," He whispered. "Let yourself enjoy." Ratchet let his field free to flow and sing with every emotion he felt as his hands mapped Optimus's frame. From the delicious neck cables that when pinched made Prime arch with lips open and vocalizer glitching loudly to the strong red arms that quivered helplessly when he dug his fingers under their ornamental armor and caressed its underside. Or the hands, that when kissed caused the whole body to squirm under him.

Oh how he enjoyed the young mech coming apart at his hands. The quiet, shy noises, the body so responsive to every caress, every flicker of field.

He leaned forward and kissed Optimus' accented hip, the young Prime shying away from the touch, closing his legs instinctively.

Ratchet's field flared with arousal, unbidden, so innocent, so deliciously pure.

Optimus quivered, small whimpers coming out constantly from him. Ratchet stroked the strong gray thighs in comforting manner, Blue optics closed, then he pressed against the thin port cover on the blue hip smiling when it clicked open without much coaxing.

"I need to plug you, Optimus; Lower your firewalls please." Ratchet leaned down and mouthed the connectors, drawing a strangled cry that Optimus tried to muffle; his hand going to his lips, denta probably closing on it.

Ratchet eased the dented hand out of its owner's mouth and kissed every finger with deliberation. "I like to hear you, Optimus."

The Prime looked at him with glazed, startled optics.

"All the sounds you make make..." Ratchet slid a finger over the port while still gazing into scared blue optics and growled, his body flaring with desire as the blue optics flickered in abandon and Optimus moaned... loudly at the stimulation. "So beautiful." Ratchet purred and kissed the glass on younger mech's chest-plates.

He moved back, blue optics watching his movements greedily, and kissed the port again, the cry spilling from Optimus' lips loud and clear.

"Just like that," He came back up and kissed Optimus, the young mech clinging to him and kissing back eagerly, hungrily. With Optimus distracted, he pulled out a cable and clicked it into the waiting port. He swallowed Prime's whimper, letting his glossa claim Prime's mouth, the younger mech's field flickering with desire.

Ratchet opened the transmission, slow and gentle, medical code easing the entry. He expected some firewalls, but there were none, the youngling in his berth opening up fully for him; trusting him, making himself truly vulnerable.

Ratchet moaned at the implications, his field clamping protectively around Optimus, hugging him. So young, so trusting, so innocent still.

Ratchet sent a test packet, low with charge and yet Optimus arched under him, optics wide with amazement, lips open in a silent cry.

And Ratchet knew just how sensitive this one was, how receptive to the pleasure he would be. He was highly tuned to every charge, every caress, systems programmed by the best artists, not mere craftsmen.

Via the connection, he could feel an echo of Optimus' spark pulse; his free, untainted soul, trusting and strong.

Ratchet established a link with Optimus' systems, and made his interface cover pop open. Prime's optics opened and he stared at Ratchet in shock.

"It's your interface panel, little Prime." Ratchet smiled back when Optimus grinned at the endearment. "I need to install software to make it work, and overload you so that you reboot."

He continued stroking all the armor he could reach, his fingers tingling pleasurably with the charge that was gathering on Optimus' body.

The Prime moaned when the data transfer began, every file gliding over his naked systems and making them burn. His field grew dense with desire, heat and pleasure flaring in unpredictable bursts, and Ratchet had to fight his own arousal.

If only he'd known that this mech was so innocently erotic...

He let his data-stream wander as the programs copied into Optimus memory. Then he sent a highly compressed package and let it burst open with sensation data. Optimus cried out and arched up in his arms as his processor overloaded; body stiffening, his systems rebooted as his form slumped down on the berth.

Ratchet fell down beside Optimus, only then realizing how highly revved he was. His systems cycled fast, but he ignored them for that moment, hugging Optimus close instead as the young mech slowly booted up, unconsciously snuggling into the warm embrace.

When Ratchet felt Optimus stirring he let out subsonic purr, nuzzling and cuddling the young mech.

"Let the software unpack and integrate," he murmured. He supervised the implementation of interface programming; firewalls being laid down, only those with highest priority brushing against his medical presence.

"It was... powerful," Optimus mumbled, embarrassed.

"Wait until you feel it in your interface grid," Ratchet, joked but Optimus stilled in his arms. "What's wrong?"

"Is it... Is it going to hurt?" The young Prime was so adorable with his innocence.

"Had no one ever talked to you about it?"

Optimus shook his head "I... Only read some old scripts..." the young mech admitted shyly.

"Optimus, your spark matured orns ago, systems settled only recently, but surely you explored... You have some idea?" At the sheepish look he got in answer Ratchet had to fight serious urge to facepalm.

"I was told that my spark is off limits and never..." Optimus was getting nervous again, his field clamping on him protectively, and this time Ratchet berated himself for making him feel like this.

He cycled air few times to get rid of his irritation and let his field become gentle and relax.

"I'm sorry, little Prime..." All of sudden Optimus' field relaxed completely and he giggled. "What did I say?" He stared dumbfounded at the mech in his arms.

"You called me 'little Prime' again. No one ever did that before that's... nice." He smiled a positively blinding smile that Ratchet promptly kissed away; Optimus melted into his embrace.

Ratchet couldn't help the smile. "You are nice... and cute; especially when smiling like that, I'll remember to call you 'little Prime' more often."

Ratchet cradled Optimus in his arms, the mech clinging to him in relaxed trust, enjoying the closeness. Now he had to move carefully, one step at the time.

"I need to check if my upgrades integrated." He touched fingers to the still sealed off spike and Optimus arched into the touch. Optimus was fearful, but the pleasure that washed over his body silenced all the fears, his flaring field alive with arousal.

Ratchet recoiled from the backlash of intense sensation. He had not yet encountered a mech so sensitive, but it was all the more fun for that.

"Touch yourself." He suggested. "Or would you rather I touched you, see what feels good?" Ratchet brushed their fields more purposefully together, solidifying his own and sweeping it against the armor in a promise of a caress that was about to come.

Optimus seemed to consider the question. "Would you... Would you touch me?" He asked, his field flickering in embarrassment.

He was so adorably easy to read. Irresistible. Ratchet wanted to lean on him, and his spike urged him to bury in that tight, virginal valve, but instead he released the young Prime from his hold and leant forward to brush their lip-plates together. Optimus pushed against him, hungry lips trying to catch the medic's, glossa darting out

"Mmm, you are so eager." Ratchet licked along the beautiful cheek flange, and slid his glossa all the way to the shapely audio.

Optimus whimpered and tried to hold still as Ratchet let his fingers brush over the elegant throat feeling the air trapped there. He skimmed them over exposed collar struts delving his fingers between them; Optimus let out a short, surprised exclamation.

"Do what feels right," Ratchet whispered.

Optimus whimpered again in response.

"If you want to move, just do it." Ratchet followed the statement by dipping his glossa into an air-vent, making Optimus arch with a soundless cry.

"My... My interface..." Optimus moaned when Ratchet's fingers skimmed over the glass of his windshield. "... it's tight."

Sweet Primus, already? Ratchet let out only a whimper, muffling it against the slim, delicious throat, fighting over the control over his panel.

"It's good, your spike is pressurizing." He managed when he got control back. "Wait a bit more, and I'll help you out of the protective seal."

He had to change his approach or Optimus would be subjected to the decidedly uncomfortable feeling of his spike ripping the seal open. He left Optimus' abdomen for later and only skimmed his hips. Instead, Ratchet slid down the lithe body noting black hands clenched in the berth mesh.

"Touch yourself, me, do whatever you want, just... relax." He inspected the seal. The spike was already pressing into it, deforming the silicone film, but still not enough. Ratchet looked up into blue, hazy optics careful not to brush his own over-sensitized panel against anything.

"Tell me Optimus... What do you want me to touch? Is there anything..."

"My hands." Optimus blurted out, instantly embarrassed and he looked away from Ratchet.

The medic didn't let his surprise show. Hands didn't tend to be sensitive in such frames, but if Optimus wanted it, he would most definitely not decline.

He skimmed his fingers over one of black hands, making Optimus bite his lip and close his optics.

"Look at me," Ratchet asked extending his field and solidifying it in places their bodies almost touched.

Optimus, reluctantly, turned his head and looked at Ratchet. The medic took one of his hands and placed a kiss in the middle of the palm. Optimus' optics shuttered.

"Don't stop looking at me," Ratchet begged and kissed every finger-pad before sucking the digit in, Optimus opening his mouth in an oval shape, his vents blowing heated air. The medic licked the fingers before pressing his glossa between them, Optimus writhing under him, his hand quivering.

Then he looked down with a bit of fear. "Please, Ratchet. My..".

The medic looked down. Optimus' spike was ready to pressurize. He licked around it, making the young mech cry out.

"Please..."

Ratchet pressed his hand to the blue hips and ex-vented on the seal. He picked the edge and ripped it off. Optimus arched and cryied out. Ratchet promptly put his mouth on the spike and sucked, glossa coaxing it out as it extended right into his mouth.

The Prime's hands went to his helm and held him as the mech bucked up.

"Ratchet it's oh... Ah!" Optimus scrambled his processor as the transfluid exploded on Ratchet's glossa, a thin, charged fluid with a taste that Ratchet prized above any other.

Optimus pulled his head up and kissed him, hungrily tasting himself.

Ratchet was surprised that the young mech didn't offline. He didn't have the mind to shield his codpiece from Optimus' touch, the panel flicking open in a rush of overwhelming, overheating pleasure.

He kissed back, claiming the pliant lips, the young Prime encircling him with his arms grinding into him and whimpering.

Ratchet was lost in the haze, the mech under him ripe and ready for the taking, begging him, trusting..

Ratchet broke through the fog with his cooling systems working hard. He'd allowed himself to get too revved up, to lose control. He had to get rid of the charge.

He snuggled the quivering, moaning Optimus and calmed down his field. Optimus' own still pulsing wildly, the spikes of his first overload slowly calming down.

Optimus snuggled close and ground their bodies together, only then noticing Ratchet's own spike. He looked at it with a sheepish expression, then at Ratchet.

"Can I?"

"Touch if you want." Ratchet's processor stalled as Optimus skimmed his fingers over his spike.

"It's so big."

Ratchet bit his lip when Optimus encircled his spike with his fingers and stroked.

"Nnngh." Unsure touch, barely there; "Harder." It drove him insane.

Optimus squeezed, and Ratchet arched into the touch. He had to overload before he could continue, the young Prime was irresistible.

He placed his own hand over Optimus' and squeezed the way he liked.

The young Prime looked up into his optics; startled and hopeful at Ratchet's nod, he smiled.

Ratchet moaned and leaned forward, kissing his lips, quivering and responsive.

He had always enjoyed his role, but Optimus, the young Prime, he reminded himself, captured his spark in a way that no other had ever managed.

Ratchet gave up any pretense of formality and arched up into unsure hands, letting his charge build. His field flowed with desire, brushing against Optimus, resonating and heating up the young mech himself.

"Just like that," he encouraged, and left the young Prime to stroke his spike alone. The mech followed the medic's lead before Ratchet felt the first wave of deep pleasure rolling through his body. He gasped, "Faster!"

Optimus sped up, his lips parted and glossa peaking out in concentration.

Ratchet moaned. He was so beautiful.

"'m going to overload, pretty." He managed, feeling his body on the edge, his chassis trembling. His spike throbbed in Optimus' hand before the young Prime suddenly bowed his head and kissed the tip of his spike.

Ratchet groaned and tried to hold the overload, shocked with the bold move, but Optimus sucked and with a helpless groan, Ratchet climaxed.

He watched Optimus try his best to swallow, his optics shuttering with effort, but a trickle escaped his mouth and when he looked at Ratchet the older 'bot almost whimpered at how positively debauched the young Prime looked.

"You have no idea what you are doing to me," Ratchet moaned . He pulled the mech up and ravished his mouth, tasting himself, his glossa licking off all traces of transfluid.

Optimus' field tightened in insecurity.

"I just wanted..." Prime looked at him with a stricken expression. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Primus, no!" Ratchet huffed, exasperated. Gently, he swept all trace of transfluid from his face and traced the thumb over Optimus' lips. "You are so impossibly beautiful, so desirable." Ratchet kissed trembling lips. "What you did... was only unexpected."

Optimus smiled shyly, his field fluctuating with embarrassment. "I just... It felt good when you did it... Wanted to make you feel good..."

"Primus, Optimus you made me feel so very, very good." Ratchet stroked Optimus' cheek. "Now I believe it is time I make you feel good again, little Prime."

Optimus seemed to relax completely at the endearment.

Ratchet pushed him with a finger, and the young mech collapsed on the berth giggling. "Your spike is unsealed, so if it pressurizes when I touch your valve, just do what you feel like doing."

Optimus looked fearful for a single moment, but then spread his legs and looked at Ratchet expectantly.

"Nnnngh." The sound slipped from Ratchet's vocalizer unbidden. "This... Optimus, do you have any idea..."

The young Prime started closing his legs, but Ratchet stopped him.

"Frag, please no!" He was loosing his head for this mech. "What happened? You seemed so reluctant at first and now you are tempting me, making me loose control... Please don't... I love every moment of this, every glance at you. Everything that you are doing..." He shouldn't be saying that.

"I don't know. "Optimus' field flared with embarrassment and rising heat. "I... Overloaded," he tasted the word, Ratchet realized. "When you put my... my spike in your mouth and it felt so good so... Finally... And I want you to make me feel this good again." He admitted. This innocence, sincerity of his shining through his optics and sounding in his words. "I'm doing what feels... Right. Wasn't it what you wanted me to do?" His voice was barely a fidgeting whisper.

"Yes, Optimus, yes. Primus knows I want you to do it." He was kissing the young Prime before he stopped talking, the mech kissing fervently back.

Optimus' hands caressed his armor, unsure, clumsy, but with underlying need and desire.

This time Ratchet took time to explore the chest and abdominal plating. He caressed slim collar reinforcements and slid his hands under bounding frontal armor. When he run his fingers over white frontal lights they flashed in excitement, and Optimus pressed into his touch, whimpering helplessly.

Then came the deliciously slim, gray waist, a work of art when it came to plates overlapping so perfectly the seams were barely visible on the sides, yet it was the central seam he paid most attention to. It was the new rage of the season, the deliciously round spheres that made the mechs so much more agile, that were so sensitive.

He slid his full palm over the center sphere. Optimus' field flared wildly as his optics snapped open, and a loud cry of pleasure ripped from his lips making Ratchet whimper needily.

"Too... much." He tried to calm his ventilation, and make his vocalizer work, but one more brush of the central sphere and he was crying out again in abandon.

"Shhhh" Ratchet managed before he caressed blue hip fairings, enjoying the slide of smooth metal under his palms. So perfect.

He skipped the interface array to kiss beautiful thighs. Strong and shaped by the hands of an artist. He kissed the edges of the armor plates, laden with sensors necessary for transformation. He slid his glossa along the seams eliciting moans and whimpers and uncontrolled lashes of Optimus' field.

His hands explored sensitive sides, delving under the armor and caressing inner wiring. He nibbled on the groin seams gently earning a long keen, Optimus' hands going to his head.

He took one hand and licked one gray finger.

"I'll switch on your lubrication systems. It might feel weird at first, like you were leaking."  
Ratchet pressed a finger into his valve gently, just past the rim, and engaged the connection again.

He traced the edge making Optimus groan before encountering a firmer bundle of nerves and pressing. Optimus cried out in pleasure, his body arching off the bed as subroutines engaged.

He withdrew the finger and Optimus shifted uncomfortably.

"Ratchet it's... Weird..." He tried to close his legs, but Ratchet held them watching the opening, eating up the picture of the freshly lubricating valve.

"Mmm it's going to make you feel so good." He moaned optics glued to the moistening orifice. "...And taste good." He leaned forward and licked the lubricating opening, lapping at the fluid that started to leak out. Optimus yipped loudly before keening and thrusting his hips forward.

"This... Oh, Ratchet." He moaned when Ratchet pushed his glossa deeper, then slid a finger beside his glossa and thrust it deeper still.

Optimus arched at the additional, firmer intrusion.

Ratchet withdrew it and his glossa and thrust the finger back again, the exquisite tightness hugging his wet digit and pulsing, beckoning him. He withdrew it and lapped at the valve again, losing himself in the taste of the young mech. He loved this... Taste, smell, nothing tasted as good, as sweet.

He thrust two fingers back in. Optimus thrashed, his legs trembling as his vocalizer whined.

Ratchet moved his fingers in and out slowly, watching for any discomfort, checking over the connection for any pain, but there was none. Optimus felt the stretching, but his sensors read it as pleasure. Every slide of Ratchet's fingers made his valve relax, inner walls squeezing and releasing, Ratchet's fingers now soaked in lubricant.

"Please." Optimus whimpered.

"Do you want more?" Ratchet quivered, his spike slowly pressurizing again.

"I don't... ah!... know."

"Give me your hand." Ratchet urged Optimus, and the young Prime reached toward him. The medic guided the trembling hand to his interface equipment. "Can you feel it?" He touched black fingers to the rim of Optimus' own valve where his fingers worked it open slowly.

Optimus' field flared in sudden arousal, he put his own hand at Ratchet's and held his wrist and rocking his hips pushed medic's hand to the hilt.

"Oh Primus!" Ratchet watched as his fingers were swallowed. Optimus moaned and thrust his hips again

"Nnnngh... Deeper... RATCHET, PLEASE!"

Ratchet scissored his fingers, feeling around, setting off the sensors and the young Prime rode him, pulling Ratchet's fingers out just a fraction then pushing them back in.

Fragging himself with Ratchet's hand.

"More," he begged and Ratchet smiled through the haze of pleasure.

"Soon, my little Prime. Need to get you ready first... Let me add one more finger, stretchyou more."

Optimus nodded and released Ratchet's hand.

The medic traced a third, soon to be added, finger over the edge of Optimus' valve gathering beads of lubricant. And then, not fully withdrawing the previous two fingers, slipped in the third alongside.

Only when he started to push in deeper did Optimus react.

"Ah... Hurts."

Ratchet stopped but didn't withdrew his fingers. "Relax," he said gently and let his field concentrate around his fingers, the energy of it pulsing, undulating over the surface of his fingers relaxing and caressing the tight walls.

"It's tingling." Optimus squirmed but pushed down on the finger joints sliding through the opening.

Ratchet resumed the gentle movements of his hand. "It's my field, you'll learn to use it one day. You need to be stretched to take my spike." He spread his fingers gently, Optimus whimpering nervously. "Relax, Starling, I'm doing it so it won't hurt later."

"Starling... That'sa pretty name." Optimus smiled and gasped.

"Mmm it was very popular endearment back in my time." Ratchet felt Optimus relaxing slowly. Diversion worked, though he would have to remember to try to rewrite this ease in being distracted. "Can you feel the slide of my fingers? As it sets off your sensors?" He needed Optimus to concentrate on that, on the pleasure again. He gripped Optimus hand and licked long and hard over the palm. The reaction was instantaneous.

The young prime cried out, nervousness in his field burned up by the sudden explosion of heat and desire.

"Yes just like that." The medic encouraged and nibbled on the wrist.

Optimus gasped and his valve squeezed on Ratchet's fingers. Pressure sensors set off as charge tingled along his fingers, his spike jumping as Optimus cried out.

"Please," the young Prime whimpered. He looked at Ratchet, who pumped his hand into the valve, the other tracing patterns on Optimus' palm.

Ratchet lifted Optimus' hand to his lips again and licked one finger after another, his optics boring into Optimus' as he followed up by sucking them inside his mouth.

Ecstasy rippled along Optimus' circuits , connection sending feedback to Ratchet. A flood of bliss heated up his own circuits. He moved his hand, spike pressurizing fully as his fingers kept gliding in the warm opening.

"Soon."

By the time he withdrew his fingers Optimus was moaning and thrashing his head, hips undulating in want and need, valve completely relaxed, pliant and dripping with lubricant.

Withdrawing the stimulation made Optimus whine in loss.

Ratchet let himself enjoy the picture. It burned into his memory forever, along with the feelings branding his spark with a mark, that he declined to acknowledge just then.

He wiped his fingers over his spike, covering it in thin lubricant.

"Now..." He leaned forward, brushing his lips over Optimus' parted ones. The young Prime whimpered and pulled him down into a searing kiss.

Ratchet shuddered.

He positioned his spike against the valve, making Optimus moan, and pushed. The Prime rocked his hips in abandon onto him, taking his spike deeper, gasping and keening.

The head pushed through, and with a loud cry Optimus gripped Ratchet's aft and pulled him down, his spike sliding inside all the way.

Sudden heat and pulsing tightness turned whatever Ratchet wanted to say into a helpless moan.

"Slow down... Oh please, slow down."

"Nnngh deep, so deep," Optimus chanted. Ratchet dug his hands into young Prime's hips keeping, or trying to keep, him still.

"Yes... Oh Primus, yes, Optimus, I'm inside you, just let yourself get ready."

"More," Optimus demanded and with one hand pulled Ratchet's head close kissing him deeply with wanton abandon.

Ratchet moaned and his hips snapped forward on their own accord.

Optimus' torso arched off the berth and he tried to rock his hips onto Ratchet's cord. "Please move, Ratchet, please," he begged, and Ratchet did.

He rocked into Optimus, each movement eliciting yet another sound, each louder than the previous one. Until they faded into needy groans.

Optimus hands were lost on the expanse of Ratchet's back.

It was difficult to kept his movements even, as now Ratchet was propped on his hands either side of Optimus' thrashing head. The mind he was connected to swept him away with wave after wave of bliss.

But the steady, too slow, peace, was not getting him any closer to the edge, merely dragging along the processor-shattering pleasure.

He needed control back now.

"Open your spark," Ratchet managed, and flared his field at the first signs of fear. "I need to touch your spark. Trust me." He could open the spark via the connection but he wanted Optimus' trust, his own will.

Optimus looked into his optics, fear visible, but his chest plates slipped open, the white light of a mature yet not-yet imprinted spark shining through the crystal casing. A blissful haze lifted from his processor.

Ratchet pressed a hand to the casing, flaring his field from it, making Optimus arch into the ghostly caress. He sped up his movements, field flaring and withdrawing with the same rhythm as Optimus was suddenly swept away with pleasure again, steadily climbing towards overload.

With one hand on Optimus' spark, he hugged the young Prime and braced both of them for the final step.

He deployed a connection spike on his cord and his fingers, the sharp plugs ripping through the seals and connecting.

A brief flare of pain, Optimus' optics snapping open in surprise and fear.

Then Ratchet sent a heavy pulse through the connection, and pleasure-laced data through his spike. Optimus screamed as pleasure overrode everything: pain, fear, surprise.

The completed circuit made Ratchet feel the overload flash through both of their bodies, sparks reaching, fields flaring, entangling and vibrating together, his hand hurting as spark data flowed through.

Their circuits discharged until finally Optimus' valve clamped over his spike and he shot the transfluid, his data-spike withdrawing, the charged fluid soothing away any lingering pain.

The Prime slipped offline. With the last of his strength, the medic re-arranged the cabling, and released the spark. He withdrew his hand, numb with energy discharge, circuits surely burned. He cradled the young mech to his chassis, cycling his systems cooler.

He reviewed the data-packet unpacking in Optimus. Routines over subroutines of useful things, weapon specs, mods and software, everything installing seamlessly.

But what he couldn't check was how the imprint had gone. He could only see the personality matrix running.

This young Prime, he needed to be strong and just, and Ratchet made sure to preserve the trust.

Prime needed to love his people, he needed confidence and a level-headed approach. A perfect ruler. Ratchet also tried to enhance his humility to balance the confidence.

Whatever the personality matrix decided to apply and how... It was beyond him now, and depended on what manner of mech Optimus already was. Even the most experienced implanter couldn't make a strong mech out of the weak-sparked.

Optimus' spark was strong, the overload burning out all sensors in his hand. The spark connectors weren't supposed to be used during overload, but like that it was way more pleasurable and far less traumatic.

It was a different mech who woke up in his arms. Mature, fully adult, his optics regarding Ratchet with thoughtfulness.

"Thank you." He hugged the medic, and relaxed when Ratchet tightened his embrace.

"Forgive me for the pain, little Prime." Ratchet looked at the mech.

Optimus' field flared with affection at the endearment. "I trusted you, I still do. You did what was needed."

Ratchet kissed Optimus' forehead in parting, and disconnected them.

Optimus keened and pulled him close. Ratchet was suddenly grateful for the comfort after the disconnection which had left him feeling cold and alone.

"I want you," Optimus whispered, not a sliver of uncertainty in his voice. "Your fields over me."

Ratchet extended his field and enveloped young Prime within it.

Brought back from memories he sighed as his spark swelled with love. Optimus had been the last to be imprinted by him. After the young mech first left, he came back time and time again, and with time Ratchet had to acknowledge that whatever he felt for the young Prime was more than just a feeling to him.

With time he also learned that his spark had been bound to Optimus that day.

They were both different mechs now. Changed by war, by Earth... yet their sparks still resonated. Optimus was no longer a young Prime and Ratchet no longer Imprinter. Their bonds hardened and changed with time; from mentor and pupil to brothers in arms and lovers.

**Author's Note:**

> Deflowering, consensual sticky and p'n'p, some consent issues regarding culturally sanctioned reprogramming.


End file.
